


Day 7: Pipabeth

by perseusjacksonjasongrace



Series: 12 Days of Fanfics [7]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: 12 days of fanfics, F/F, Fluff, Non canon compliant, crackships keep fandom alive, non descript, pjjg challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:28:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28428567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perseusjacksonjasongrace/pseuds/perseusjacksonjasongrace
Summary: This is a challenge i took on for December of 2020, in which i wrote 12 fanfictions based on dialogue prompts. Some are canon-compliant and some aren't. Enjoy!Things to note: (1) canon compliant just means it’s in the original PJO universe (so demigods and gods exist) it does not mean what happens in canon is relevant or applicable. (2) you do not have to know or understand what is happening in my existing AUs (EotH and KC) to read the days they’re written in.
Relationships: Pipabeth
Series: 12 Days of Fanfics [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2082243
Kudos: 17





	Day 7: Pipabeth

**Author's Note:**

> “Is that vodka? At 7 in the morning?”

Piper Mclean hated the club. It was loud and noisy and full of people who smelled like they bathed in tequila and coconut rum every evening. She didn’t understand why anyone enjoyed the dense atmosphere with music pulsing into the very fibres of your being and rattling your bones till they ached the next day. She much preferred close gatherings with a few friends, low music, and conversation that doesn’t involve screaming “YOU GOOD?” in someone’s ear every few minutes.

Despite all this, she found herself standing in the middle of _Vibe_ with liquor and smoke clinging to her hair, trying very hard not to look like she was having the worst time of her life. It clearly isn’t working.

“Don’t look so glum Pipes! It’s not my fault you lost our bet.” Percy Jackson leans into her, a lopsided grin on his face.

“Oh I’m enjoying myself thoroughly,” She puts on a bright smile, fakeness leaking from between her teeth. “I hate you so much. You couldn’t have chosen any other consequence.”

“Sorry Pipes,” He looks too gleeful. She can’t wait to get him back. “It was either this or dive naked into the infected pond and Annabeth banned me from that because she didn’t have time to go to the hospital.”

Before she could even process the elements of that statement, the blonde mentioned saddles up to them, a pretty smile lighting up her face. “Hello girlfriend.” She kisses Piper’s cheek, leaning into her so their bodies pressed together.

“Hello traitor.” She grumbles, but wraps an arm around her waist.

“Traitor?” Annabeth frowns, confusion and distraction making the grey of her eyes look like rain clouds.

“Apparently you’re to blame for my being here instead of at the hospital being treated for pond infections.”

Her girlfriend pulls a face that is equal parts disgusted and adorable. Her nose scrunches up so the small smattering of freckles from various archaeological digs disappear entirely, and her eyebrows scrunch together so the crease in her forehead deepens. “I have a dig next week. I can’t afford to be watching you puke your guts out in a hospital.” And then she turns a sobering glare towards Percy, who is still standing there with an amused look on his face, “I’ll make you and her jump in that stupid pond. Then you can be bed-pals as you throw up into the same bucket.”

Piper and him let out a groan of disgust at the vivid image. She shoves her girlfriend’s shoulder, scowling playfully. “Go spread your propaganda somewhere else! I want to wallow in peace.”

“Orrrrr,” A gleam enters those grey eyes and she knows instinctively that whatever would come next would be tomorrow’s regret. She is ready. “Or we can do shots until the liquor tastes like water?”

“Are you serious?” She is shocked at the suggestion. Annabeth has never really been a ‘let’s get wasted’ kind of person.

“Come on, don’t be a downer!” She waggles blonde eyebrows.

Percy chimes in with a splitting grin of his own, “First one to fall has to-”

“NO!” The blonde cuts in, “No more dares you two. I’m banning you for the rest of the month. We all need a little time to relax.”

They both give her indignant looks, “What? Who’s we?”

She glares at them, “The rest of us who have to look after you two whenever you decide to do something dumb that is going to get one or both of you inured.”

Their twin looks of dismay are almost comical and Annabeth’s lips twitch like she’s holding in a laugh. “Let’s do shots before you keel over and die.”

Piper doesn’t have time to protest before blonde curls are whipping past her vision and a hand is tugging hers towards the bar, which is crowded by people and makes her want to run in the opposite direction. But the warm hand in hers gives a squeeze as if her girlfriend had known what she was thinking, and suddenly everything doesn’t seem so overwhelming. They hit the wood of the counter with a thud and she knows she’ll have a bruise on her hip tomorrow, but Annabeth turns to her with a light like gilded rain and fine beauty and she knows she’d throw herself off a cliff to see that smile.

“What’s your poison?” Percy looks to them, mischief gleaming in his emerald eyes.

They share a look that crackles like midnight and trouble and turn to their friend. “Choose.” Piper winks.

His face lights up like fairy lights and he turns to the bartender, rattling off an order that is guaranteed to put them in the grave. Minutes later a line of shots, some of which she recognises and some completely foreign, is set up in front of them. Four different liquids swirl in the tiny glasses and she can smell the liquor like blood in a trainwreck.

“This is a terrible idea.” Her girlfriend grins.

“Yes.” She winces, “It is.”

“Well then,” Percy looks to them, already holding up the vodka, “Shall we?”

And so they do, and it is burning, and it is lightning, and it is gleaming, and it is fun. And when they’ve finished Annabeth orders more, and they go through those even faster than the first. The alcohol sweeps over them, like waves of gentle haze.

Piper smiles all lopsided as the neon colours blur together. The lights she hated so vehemently now bounce across her vision in a dance that she is all too happy to carry on. A warm hand slips into hers and then they are heading to the dance floor. Bodies writhe against each other to music that is so far away, sounds up in space.

They have more shots, dance even longer, everything is nothing but time and light and liquor and wonder. Annabeth pulls them together and she can feel every soft curve of her girlfriend, and every corded muscle alongside. Their lips meet in a chaste kiss and it makes them laugh for no reason. They try it again and it goes deeper, sweeter, more the taste of each other than the feel of lips. They are eternal.

When they go home, drunk, stumbling, laughing like they mean to remember every second, they are still in each other’s arms. They wave goodbye to Percy who is more sober than they could ever be, the little minx, and crash to the couch with no energy to spare. She finds the blonde’s mouth, presses feather kisses to the corners. Annabeth is already sleeping.

***

Piper Mclean wakes up to the sun directly on her eyes, and a pounding like anvils behind her eyes. “What the fuck did we do last night?”

There is no reply which sets in a mild panic that forces her to open her eyes. They burn like she decided to stare straight into the sun and she sucks in a breath that rattles her brain.

“Annabeth.” Her voice is so croaky. 

“In the kitchen love.”

She groans as she pictures the walk through the apartment, which suddenly seems as large as the Grand Canyon.

“Are you alive?”

She takes stock of her body which feels like it’s been through a washing machine, “No.”

“You want my hangover cure?”

“Yes, get me out of pain!”

And then the blonde is walking into the room and offering her a mug of something she doesn’t bother to analyse before taking a large gulp. Big mistake.

She splutters as the contents hit her tongue, and scorch the back of her throat. “Is that….vodka?” She gasps, “At seven in the morning?”

Annabeth smirks, and it is rude how adorable she looks while she’s ruining people’s livers. “The best way to cure a hangover is to drink more.” And with that she shakes her own mug and downs the rest.

“I hate you.” Piper grumbles, “Get over here so i can hold you and sleep off the blacksmith in my head.”

“Want tablets?”

“Want death.” She squeezes her eyes, “But i guess that’ll do too.”

“Come on Miss dramatic,” Annabeth laughs, “Let’s get you to bed.” 

So Piper is lifted up bridal style by her girlfriend and gently tucked into bed. They sleep the rest of the day off and have deliciously greasy food for dinner. If nothing else, at least she is content. At least she is happy. At least she is _home_.

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me your thoughts, beautiful human!


End file.
